


Rivers Know This

by blackkat



Series: mountains and rivers know the secret [1]
Category: Naruto
Genre: First Kiss, Friendship, Humor, M/M, Marriage of Convenience, Pining, Political Marriage, Unrepentant Fluff, well mostly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-07
Updated: 2016-07-07
Packaged: 2018-07-22 03:07:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7417210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackkat/pseuds/blackkat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tobirama has long since resigned himself to the fact that all Uchiha are at least mildly insane, but this is a new low. And to think, he’d considered Kagami to be one of the level-headed ones.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rivers Know This

**Author's Note:**

> Kagami is never given a definite age in canon beyond a vague “died at 24”, but I'm ignoring that. There's nothing that says he was one of Tobirama’s students, he was simply on his squad during the war, so I'm handwaving a bit and fudging the rest. Bear with me. 
> 
> The title is from a quote by A. A. Milne: _Rivers know this: there is no hurry. We shall get there._

The darkness outside the windows weighs on Tobirama, pushing down on his shoulders like heavy hands. He can't remember the last time he left his office, or even the last time he stood up to do something beyond shift paperwork from his desk into one of the overflowing file cabinets along the wall. There's still more to do, so much to do, and the workload is increasing by the day. It’s no small task, building a village, and sometimes Tobirama has to wonder how much of this Hashirama has truly thought of.

It’s one thing to get the scattered, fractured clans across the country on speaking terms. Another to make an actual, stable peace between them. Another _entirely_ to convince them to leave ancestral homes, abandon compounds and territories that have been theirs for generations, and move into an empty plot of land. It’s an unbelievable amount of faith to lay on the far-flung dreams of one man, no matter how charming and charismatic, and they're understandably reluctant.

By all rights, it should be up to Hashirama to soothe their fears, to write them the letters that hold assurances and bribes in equal measure, edged with the threat of broken treaties, but Hashirama is currently focused on Madara and little else. The vast majority of the work he’s put off falls to Tobirama, on top of his already not-inconsiderable workload, and Tobirama is utterly certain that if he has to go over one more sloppily-tallied expense report from the damned Inuzuka Clan he’s going to go cross-eyed.

To top it off, tensions with the Uchiha are rising again. They have little love left for Madara, who ignored their demands for peace after Izuna's death and tried to drag them back into an all-out war, and he’s doing little to endear himself to them, always cutting and sharp and angry. Tobirama’s tried his best to stay out of the man’s way, knowing very well how Madara feels about him, but the fact that Hashirama is all but surgically attached to him these days makes it difficult.

Things had been going so well, too, Tobirama laments to himself, setting down his pen and rubbing at the beginnings of a true migraine brewing behind his eyes. The Uchiha are integrating well, and their section of the village is already completed. They're a calm clan, for the most part, but good-natured, and Tobirama is relieved to see that neither they nor the Senju seem to hold many grudges for the war. Some tension lingers, of course, especially among the older generations, but frankly there are few of those days left. The average age of a shinobi is a little under thirty years, and the only ones to survive past that are generally the noncombatants.

The Uchiha have been accepting, when Tobirama has been among them. Slightly wary, but cautiously open, and Tobirama has found himself becoming friendly with several shinobi near his own age. The children, too, are always enthusiastic to see him pull water out of thin air—they seem to think it a magic trick of some sort, and Tobirama can't help but indulge them. Such innocence is too easily and too readily lost, and if these children can hold on to theirs longer than he did, longer than Itama and Kawarama did—

Well. That will make all of this effort worth _everything_ , won't it?

A soft knock on the door brings him out of his thoughts. It’s light enough to ignore if he wants to, which means it’s definitely not his brother or his cousin—Hashirama simply barges straight in, and Tōka has a tendency to pound, if only because it aggravates him, and Tōka always _lives_ to aggravate him. Rapping like that, though—there's only one person it could be, and out of all the people in their tiny, skeletal village, it’s the one Tobirama wants to see the most.

“Come in, Kagami,” he calls.

There's a beat, and then the door slides open. “It’s creepy how you do that,” the Uchiha complains, slipping in and closing it behind him. “I always forget you're a sensor until you do that kind of thing.”

Tobirama snorts, but leans back in his chair, pleased to see the younger man. He’s been on a diplomatic mission for the past month, trying to convince the Aburame Clan to join the rapidly-growing alliance within Konoha, and Tobirama has…missed him.

He wonders what Madara would say, if he knew of Tobirama feeling such fondness for one of the Uchiha. Nothing pleasant, that’s for certain.

“I hardly need to be a sensor to know who’s standing at my door,” he counters. “The only other people who would visit me at this time of night are hardly subtle.”

“So you _did_ notice what time it was.” Kagami crosses his arms over his chest, raising a brow. He’s still wearing travel-stained clothes, and there's a scroll dangling loosely from his fingertips. “And here I thought you were going to give me an excuse about not realizing how late it was.”

Tobirama grimaces, because Kagami is just about the only one who will try to bully him out of his office. Who usually succeeds at it, too. “Is that for me?” he asks, trying to change the subject.

Kagami glances down at the scroll, then back up at him, and hums thoughtfully. Then, pointedly deliberate, he slips it into one of his weapons pouches and rocks back on his heels. “That?” he asks innocently. “Oh, no. I think I'm going to wait and give that to you _after_ you’ve had eight solid hours of sleep. Which, if you leave now, would be…” He pauses, pretending to consider it. “Huh. Eleven in the morning. Coincidentally, that’s how long _I_ plan to sleep, so why don’t we meet for a late breakfast and I’ll hand it over then?”

“Kagami,” Tobirama growls, coming to his feet. The sudden shift is enough to slam the migraine he’s been warding off all day down into his skull with blinding suddenness, though, and he has to grab for the edge of the desk to stay on his feet. His eyes snap shut on instinct, though the damage is already done, and he concentrates on taking careful, even breaths as starbursts of pain dance across his senses.

“Damn it, Senju.” The words are so quiet they aren’t even murmur, and an instant later long fingers curl around his elbow, helping him stay upright. “I go away for a month and you completely forget how to take care of yourself.”

“I'm fine,” Tobirama manages to get you, though it makes his head pulse with agony. “I have work.” Even though just the thought of staring at lines on paper right now makes him want to die, it has to be done, and no one but Tobirama is going to do it. No one else cares.

There's a soft sigh. Kagami curls a hand over the back of his neck, skin cool and an impossible relief, and then says, “Over my dead body. You're going home, even if I have to carry you. Just think of the shame—an Uchiha, eight years younger than you, having to drag your sorry carcass back to that library you call a house.”

“It’s a nice house,” is the only defense Tobirama can manage at the moment.

That gets him a fond snort. “Of course. Come on, can you walk?”

“Sitting would be easier,” Tobirama attempts. It would work with Hashirama, after all.

Unfortunately, Kagami is quite a bit sharper and much less easily fooled. “Yeah, no. If I let you sit down you're going to go right back to reading reports until your brain _actually_ leaks out of your ears. I'm not having that on my conscience.”

Resigning himself to being hauled home one way or another, Tobirama reluctantly opens his eyes, then immediately closes them when spots and starbursts swim across his vision. A touch to his chakra is enough to let his awareness bleed into the careful distance of a sensor’s sight, which translates to vision but doesn’t strictly require it, and while it doesn’t quite bring his surroundings into sharp relief, the vague awareness coupled with his memory of his office is enough for him to take unhesitating steps towards the door.

“Technically this is insubordination,” Tobirama feels the need to point out, sidestepping a hurrying kunoichi in the hall outside.

Kagami chuckles. He doesn’t try to steer Tobirama again, but falls into step with him as they head out of the Administration Building that Tobirama had insisted be Hashirama’s first creation. “Oh? Have you gotten to the paperwork for that already?”

Possibly. Tobirama thinks back, trying to shut out the pain in his head, and decides that he hasn’t seen it yet. “No, but I think it’s somewhere on my desk.”

“I'm sorry to break it to you, Senju, but you could hide small _mountains_ on your desk right now.” Kagami's chakra—a cool blue-green that Tobirama has never seen in anyone else—twists, then settles as the man himself stretches. Something pops, and he sighs in relief. “Gods, I hate sleeping on the ground. I think every rock in Fire Country migrated under my back last night.”

Tobirama frowns, trying to remember if Kagami's cousin had set up his belongings in one of the smaller houses yet. “Are you still occupying Hikaku’s floor?”

A pause, and then Kagami admits, “I hadn’t checked yet. I only just got back about twenty minutes ago.”

At that, Tobirama finally risks opening his eyes, arching an incredulous brow at the Uchiha. Kagami catches it and rolls his own eyes, looking away pointedly. “What? I knew that you’d still be working, since I wasn’t there to pry you out of your office. I just didn’t think you’d have been working that _much_. Did Hashirama get sick or something?”

“Idiots don’t catch colds,” Tobirama says derisively, making Kagami snort. “No, but…Madara is in the village now. Hashirama brought him back, and talked him into staying. My brother is…distracted, at the moment.”

If he wasn’t looking for it, Tobirama would miss the subtle tension that slides into Kagami's frame. The Uchiha Clan’s wayward Head is a touchy subject with most of the members, and Kagami is no different. “That’s…pacifistic of him. He _does_ remember that Madara's a warmonger, though, right?”

Since Tobirama has often wondered that himself, he simply shakes his head and doesn’t answer the question. “I believe he’s been put up in a house near Hashirama’s.”

“I bet Lady Mito _loves_ that,” Kagami says with wry humor. “Has she laid a curse on him yet?”

Only verbally, though Tobirama will hardly say as much to Kagami. Mito's rants to him are confidential, after all, with the privilege of her being family. “I feel like your understanding of seals is lacking if you think she could do something like that,” he offers instead, dry as dust.

“I'm simply choosing not to underestimate the powers of a pissed-off Uzumaki princess,” Kagami retorts. “I’ll probably live longer that way.”

“That’s true,” Tobirama allows. Longer than Hashirama, certainly, if the man can't figure out why spending every hour of the day with his self-declared best friend and not his wife is making her so angry. Tobirama is honestly astonished that Mito hasn’t called him to help hide the body—or bodies—yet. “I hope Madara learns to do the same, and quickly, or the Uchiha are going to be short a member.”

Kagami doesn’t quite say _good riddance_ , but it’s there in his body language, and in the way he pointedly doesn’t comment. “Here we are,” he says, coming to a halt in front of Tobirama’s gate. “I don’t want to see you before eleven, Senju.”

Tobirama rolls his eyes, but acquiesces with a flick of one hand. “Meet at noon, then? The Akimichi opened a barbeque restaurant while you were gone.”

“I saw a ramen stand on my way through,” Kagami suggests. “It’s near the edge of the village, so we can eat and get some training in afterwards.” Seeing Tobirama’s expression, he quickly adds, “Don’t argue, Senju. You're even pastier than you were when I left. If you’ve gotten _any_ sun in the last month, I’ll be astonished.”

“I have,” Tobirama informs him, and the sharpness of his own tone is enough to make his head ring. He winces, and decides it might not be best to invite the tension that will no doubt come when he reveals that Hashirama actually had to fight Madara to a standstill with a squad of Senju—one of whom was Tobirama—in order to get him to listen.

“Go to bed.” Kagami's voice is gentle, but firm. “I'm going to do the same. I’ll see you tomorrow, Senju.”

“Good night, Kagami,” Tobirama returns, and can't help a small smile at the lazy salute Kagami offers him. The Uchiha heads down the street, pace brisk, and is soon lost to the curve of the street.

Even though he knows he shouldn’t, Tobirama closes his eyes again, easily picking out that ocean-blue chakra as it moves through a muddle of more common colors. He traces its path through the slapdash village streets, back towards the Uchiha Clan’s section, and waits as it joins another familiar knot of chakra signatures, these ones still and steady with sleep. Then, with a soft sigh, he lets his extended senses slip into the background, vague awareness rather than secondary layer of sight, and turns to unlock the gate. The courtyard beyond is littered with fallen cherry blossoms, and he wonders vaguely when they even bloomed. The last time he remembers looking, they were still tiny buds.

Still, it’s something he can contemplate later. Right now Tobirama is more than ready for sleep, for anything that will stop the ache in his head, and only long practice in even worse states keeps his feet steady as he climbs the three steps and slips into his house. It’s echoingly quiet, but even that doesn’t help the migraine. Resigned, Tobirama strips out of his clothes, barely remembers to pull on a loose yukata, and unfolds his futon with as few movements as possible. Then he crawls under the blankets, and doesn’t even register his head hitting the pillow before he’s unconscious.

 

 

By noon, the only remnant of Tobirama’s migraine is a hollow sort of absence—not quite pain, but more a reminder that it was there. In the face of it, Tobirama can admit that he possibly hasn’t been taking as much care with his health as he could have, these last three weeks. Madara's arrival in the village has been hectic in multiple ways, and only one of them is the paperwork. Tobirama won't quite say he’s been avoiding the man, but he’s also not about to push matters that have been…settled unsatisfactorily for all concerned.

He sighs a little, taking another sip of the green tea the ramen chef prepared for him—unasked for, but very much appreciated. The day is clear, just on the edges of cool, with a soft breeze that covers the warmth of the spring sun. Kagami is running late, as often happens; Hikaku has two small children, both of whom are terrors, and anyone trying to escape the house generally results in tears and tantrums. Still, Tobirama finds that doesn’t mind as much as he might with someone else.

Kagami was the first of the Uchiha to truly approach him, beyond the children, who saw him interact with some of the Senju brats and decided that they wanted to climb all over him, too. When it had finally become too much, Tobirama had slipped into one of the training areas to escape them, and found Kagami practicing with his cousin. They’d both eyed him warily, but when he had proceeded to ignore them and start his own training, Kagami had approached and demanded a spar.

It’s not as if they're inseparable, but Tobirama doesn’t make friends easily. He isn’t outgoing, isn’t cheerful in the way of Hashirama or bold in the way of Tōka. Introverted, restrained, reserved, cold—they’ve all been used to describe him at one time or another, and none of them are untrue. But Kagami doesn’t seem to mind. He can be silent when Tobirama needs quiet, or friendly when Tobirama wants to be engaged. He’s rarely unhappy, but never idiotically cheery, and he’s smart and quick and clever.

One real friend beyond his family, and maybe it was always inevitable that this would be the end result.

The stall’s hangings part, letting in a slant of sunlight, and then suddenly there's a body on the stool to Tobirama’s left. “Sorry I'm late,” Kagami says, faintly sheepish even as he waves a friendly hello to the chef. “The twins. Again. I swear they’ve got the door trapped or something. It might be smarter to just start leaving through the window.”

“Which would explain why you haven’t done it before,” Tobirama answers mildly, but a glance at Kagami's face is enough to have him sitting up a little straighter in his seat. “Kagami?”

There's a brief pause as Kagami visibly struggles with what to say. He runs a hand through his curly hair, clearly debating something with himself, and then he sighs and admits in a low voice, “There's been talk in the district. Hikaku told me about it, and I heard it myself on the way here. Malcontents, especially bitter shinobi, civilians with a grudge—they're talking about the Senju taking over the village, shutting us out and taking away any power we might have. I can't tell if they're angry or just scared, but they're looking to Madara as a leader. As a way out. That’s…not going to end well.”

It’s really not. Tobirama freezes, then takes a careful breath and sets his cup down, mind already skipping over possibilities. Asking for the rumormonger’s name won't help—any attempt at reparation will only make the sentiment spread. Truth, too, will do little to settle such fears. They're unfounded, but Tobirama can see the reasoning behind them. And if Madara hears, if he realizes that not all of the Uchiha within Konoha's new boundaries support peace as ardently as they once did, will it change his mind? Will he turn his back on Hashirama again and plunge them into another war? There will be little possibility of him winning it, but that hardly stopped Madara before, when he sought revenge by himself and with no backing.

“Troublesome,” he mutters, bowing his head and rubbing at the bridge of his nose.

Kagami snorts softly. “Your mother _must_ have been a Nara,” he says, and it’s hardly the first time, but it still sparks a flicker of amusement in Tobirama’s chest. “ _Must have_. I won't believe you if you tell me differently, Senju.”

“The Uzumaki Clan genealogies prove otherwise,” Tobirama counters, as he always does. The he sobers a little, and sighs. “Thank you for telling me of the rumors. This could prove problematic, if it’s not dealt with.”

The Uchiha simply tips one shoulder in a small shrug. “It’s my village too,” he says. “And besides, my family was one of the first to agree to meet with the Senju in peace talks. We practically deserted. If something _does_ happen, Madara will probably execute us outright, rather than waiting for us to betray him again.” He pauses, then turns a sharp look on Tobirama. “And on that note, when were you planning on telling me that Madara _ordered_ your brother to kill you before he would even consider joining the village? If Hashirama wasn’t such a self-sacrificing idiot—”

“I think the word you're looking for is ‘noble’,” Tobirama says dryly. “Noble idiot. Though I will grant that does little to lessen the degree of his idiocy. I hadn’t realized news of the encounter had spread so far. Hikaku told you?”

The noise Kagami makes is akin to an unhappy cat, but before he can say anything further, the chef steps over to take their orders with a smile.

By the time the woman moves away, the edge of irritation has leeched out of Kagami's eyes, replaced with weariness. He rubs his hands over his face, leaning forward to brace his elbows on the countertop, and admits, “I don’t want to go back to fighting. I _like_ working towards peace, with a whole village and multiple clans to support us. If Madara tries to destroy that, I—I'm not sure what I’ll do, but it’s going to be messy.”

“It’s not only your problem,” Tobirama reminds him, feeling a faint flicker of worry. When shinobi like Kagami say messy, they mean the kind that will rearrange the landscape and level mountains.

Thankfully, Kagami is also reasonable, which is a trait that is entirely lacking in most ninja Tobirama knows. He concedes the point with a huff and a nod, then says with a trace of whimsy, “It’s too bad Hikaku’s already married; we could set him up with that scary cousin of yours, make it look like a love match, and cement clan bonds that way. Everyone loves a good romance, right?”

Tobirama blinks, blinks again, and tries to fit together Hikaku, who is quietly wry and good-natured, with Tōka, who is loud and brash and more prone to starting bar fights than cooking meals or doing laundry. “That is…” He trails off, not quite able to find the words to encompass just how terrible an idea it is. “…not a solution,” he finally settles on. “Hikaku is very much married, and Tōka’s type is closer to Mito than your cousin.”

Kagami frowns, momentarily distracted. “Redheaded?”

“Female,” Tobirama informs him dryly. “For the most part.”

Tobirama can practically see Kagami's brain attempting to process this. “…Oh. That—yes, okay, Hikaku would definitely not be her type. I— _really_?”

“You haven’t noticed?” Tobirama asks, slightly incredulous but also amused, because Tōka is a very great many things but _subtle_ is not among them. “You saw her when we had that mission to escort the merchant’s daughter to the port.”

“Suddenly her insistence on being the one to guard the lady’s bedroom makes a lot more sense,” Kagami says dazedly. “And how happy the lady looked the next morning. Okay. Wow. Let’s change the subject, or I'm going to have a hard time meeting your cousin’s eyes ever again.”

Entirely despite himself, Tobirama chuckles softly, leaning back in his seat and nodding his thanks when the chef sets their bowls in front of them. She retreats to the back again, and Tobirama waits until she’s safely hidden from view before he says, “It’s not a terrible idea, in theory, just—not with those two. There are no Senju and Uchiha who are dating?”

His few vague hopes are dashed when Kagami shakes his head. “No. The clans have been keeping to themselves for the most part. It’s one of the reasons this is a problem.” He waves his chopsticks threateningly in Tobirama’s direction. “ _Eat_. I don’t know how many meals you’ve skipped, and I'm pretty sure I don’t actually want to, but you're not missing this one.”

Tobirama rolls his eyes, but gives in, picking up his own chopsticks and scooping up some noodles. “Do you know of any Uchiha shinobi who might agree?”

“Well, _I_ would—” Kagami stops, a piece of cabbage halfway to his mouth, and eyes Tobirama. Sets his bite down, and says with an air of revelation, “You like men.”

That’s more than enough to start up the alarm bells in Tobirama’s head. “Kagami, no,” he warns, because he doesn’t need to be a genius to figure out where this is going. “That’s an even worse idea than pairing Hikaku and Tōka.”

“It’s really not,” Kagami disagrees, and _this_ would be why Tobirama once loathed facing the Uchiha Clan on the battlefield so much. They're like half-starved dogs with a bone—once they’ve gotten their teeth into something, absolutely _nothing_ is going to make them let go. “You're currently unattached, you’re the Senju Clan Head’s brother, and we spend most of our time together anyway.”

“Yes, but you're straight, and everyone knows we’re simply friends,” Tobirama counters, and it feels a little like his words don’t fit right in his mouth. “If we were married, you would have to _act_ like it, even in front of Madara.”

To Tobirama’s great misfortune, that barely makes Kagami blink. “So we’re just really good at hiding it, and I've recently discovered I'm Tobirama-sexual. Besides, I've never really thought about it all that much,” he dismisses with a shrug. “Most shinobi don’t care all that much about gender, you know that. And can you think of _anything_ that would convince Madara more than _you_ getting married to an Uchiha?”

“They’ll—” _think_ “—know it’s a trick, Kagami,” Tobirama insists, and abandons his ramen to sit back in his seat and cross his arms, leveling a glare at the younger man. “We will not be able to act _married_. This is illogical.”

“We’re not trying to play on logic, we’re trying to play on _emotion_. And I don’t care what they say about you on the battlefield; there's no way you don’t have a heart in there somewhere, ice prince.”

Tobirama narrows his eyes, only just managing to keep the sharp edge of his temper—and his chakra—in check.

As ever, Kagami sees the reaction even where others might miss it until Tobirama exploded in their face, and he sighs a little, gentling his tone. “It doesn’t _have_ to be real,” he reminds Tobirama, and there's a certain edge of weariness to his face that Tobirama hates with almost the same fervor as he hates Madara himself. “If we get married, it will be a symbol, a sign that even people who used to be the greatest of enemies can put aside their feelings and work together. I want Konoha to be the kind of place where that’s possible; don’t you want the same thing?”

Tobirama looks back at his ramen and doesn’t answer directly. “Hikaku’s penchant for emotional blackmail is rubbing off on you,” he says instead, tearing the fried egg on top into tatters and letting the bright gold yolk leak out into the dark broth.

Kagami chuckles, returning to his meal as well. “I think it’s a dad thing. Or, well, actually a mom thing, since Kasumi is _definitely_ the dad in that equation, but my point stands. Parent thing. I'm learning by osmosis.”

“Another thing you will be sacrificing if you go through with this,” Tobirama reminds him, and can't quite keep the edge of harshness from his tone. He’s long since accepted that unless he gets incredibly creative with biology and his jutsus, his proclivities prevent him from ever having children of his own, which is…painful. But Kagami is very fond of Hikaku’s children, and Tobirama won't take such a chance away from him, no matter how eager he is to cast it aside. “You're talking as though this is a momentary situation, but if we did it, it _could not_ be. We could never separate, never so much as argue in public, or it would be seen as the alliance as a whole falling apart.”

“And _you_ seem to forget that I'm nineteen, not nine,” Kagami retorts, though he keeps his tone perfectly calm. The ability to maintain an even temper regardless of circumstance is one of Kagami's greatest virtues. “Maybe I haven’t made it to your lofty age yet, o wise one, but I can think and reason. I understand the implications. I just don’t think that being married to my best friend is going to be the end of the world as we know it. We’ll work things out. And if we end up wanting children, there are plenty of war orphans from both of our clans in need of homes. None of these problems are insurmountable.”

Tobirama looks at his friend for a long moment, knowing there are other arguments he should be making, but not able to think of any of them. He’d been unaware that Kagami thought of him as a best friend as well, though he knew they were close. And there's a whisper, somewhere deep inside him, in the mean, selfish, despicable parts he’s tried so hard to push down, that’s urging him to accept for reasons other than peace. Reasons that are closer to _if I can't have him, I will see to it that no one will_ , and—

He turns away. “I am impossible to live with.” Several romantic partners have told him so as they left, unable to bear him, and Tobirama knows that he isn’t anything close to normal. Too smart, too cutting, too cold, closer to his experiments and books than any one person. He doesn’t want Kagami to feel that disappointment in him as well.

(Too many people have been disappointed in Tobirama already. His father, because he was never as strong as Hashirama. Hashirama, because he was not as kind as his elder brother wished. The Senju as a whole, when he refused to take an Uzumaki bride as his brother did. Romantic partners, tentative friends, mission partners who expected him to be one thing and saw the reality of him as something lesser. To add Kagami to that list—Tobirama isn’t certain he could bear it.)

“And I nag,” Kagami counters, but there's mirth in his voice, and when Tobirama risks another glance up he’s smiling a little, black eyes crinkled with that could almost be fondness. “Senju, you're not telling me anything I don’t already know. We’re friends. Things don’t have to change.”

“But they will.” It’s the closest Tobirama can come to speaking the truth without actually giving voice to it, and he wonders if Kagami will notice.

“Probably,” Kagami admits, and it’s clear he doesn’t notice. Tobirama can't say whether he’s relieved or disappointed. Then he offers a smile, brighter than the last, and Tobirama finds it hard to think at all. “But change isn’t a bad thing, right?”

Tobirama stares at him for one moment longer, taking in the stubborn spark in his handsome face, the set of his shoulders, the line of his jaw, and knows that for every logical, careful argument he presents, Kagami will have three far less well-reasoned arguments to knock it down, and will end up winning regardless. He closes his eyes, pinches the bridge of his nose, and allows himself one last heartfelt, “ _Troublesome_.”

Kagami laughs, and even though he clearly knows he’s won, it’s not gloating in the least. Just honestly amused, warm with an affection Tobirama has only ever received from the closest of his family, and it sparks a smile in him as well, no matter how he tries to hide it.

“Albino Nara,” Kagami teases, though it’s not aimed to hurt.

“Stubborn Uchiha,” Tobirama retorts, and turns to face the younger man. He meets his eyes, still finding it strange that he _can_ , that the Sharingan he feared for so long isn’t a threat anymore, and asks seriously, “You’re certain?”

Kagami flicks a glance towards the street, eyes narrowing faintly in calculating surprise, and then gives Tobirama a smile that’s almost mischievous. The familiar flicker of chakra announces just who it is he’s seen, and Tobirama has half a second to brace himself before Kagami says, pitched just loud enough to carry without it seeming deliberate, “Of course I’ll marry you, Tobirama!” Then he reaches out, hooks a hand around the back of Tobirama’s neck, and quickly pulls him in, his intention blindingly obvious.

Tobirama closes his eyes, somewhere between resignation and amusement, and raises a hand to brace himself on Kagami's chest, slowing their collision. Kagami blinks at him, but Tobirama doesn’t pause, tipping his head and letting their lips meet more naturally than the near-lunge Kagami was aiming for. It’s light, careful even if it doesn’t look it, and after a moment of surprise Kagami returns and deepens it with thankful ease, even if it’s his first time kissing a man. Tobirama allows him to control it, tilts his head back when Kagami pushes in, lets Kagami's hands find his nape and waist and curl tightly, and pretends he doesn’t hear the sound of someone choking desperately behind them.

Kagami slows the kiss, gentles it. His thumb traces over Tobirama’s skin, and Tobirama can't fight a shiver when his nail scrapes gently over his spine. He closes his eyes, reining in the want that coils blisteringly hot in his gut, and concentrates on getting his breathing back under control as fingers thread into his hair.

“Yes,” Kagami murmurs, and it could be either a reiteration of his acceptance or the answer to Tobirama’s earlier question. When Tobirama glances up, careful and assessing, Kagami is watching him with something that falls halfway between surprise and thoughtfulness. He catches Tobirama’s eye and smiles again, very carefully not so much as glancing to the side.

He doesn’t need to. From the street outside here's a furious snarl, a yelp, a scuffle. “GET OFF ME, SENJU!” Madara roars in obvious fury. “I’M GOING TO GUT YOUR BROTHER, AND DON’T YOU DARE TRY AND STOP ME!”

“Time to go?” Kagami murmurs, lips quirking in amusement. He takes Tobirama’s hand, twisting their fingers together firmly.

“Time to go,” Tobirama agrees, casting a faintly regretful glance at his barely-touched ramen. What he had managed to eat was quite good, after all. He fishes enough money from his weapons pouch to cover the food, then lets Kagami pull him to his feet and out a gap in the stall’s wall. Were he a better person, Tobirama might feel guilty leaving his brother to deal with an enraged Madara, but then, he’s never pretended to have any claim to the moral high ground.

Also, Madara is one hundred percent something that Hashirama has inflicted on himself, and so Tobirama truly doesn’t give a damn.

Kagami is laughing as he hurries down the street, and as soon as they're around a corner and out of sight he turns, tugging Tobirama with him. His eyes are bright, and there are people watching, but for once Tobirama can't find it in himself to care about that either.

 _What if_ , that small voice inside him says, and Tobirama can't help but hear it.

“So,” Kagami says, and pushes lightly at Tobirama’s shoulder, urging him back until his shoulders hit the wall of one of the new buildings. The Uchiha steps in, leaning forward, and his gaze darts from Tobirama’s eyes to land on his mouth. “That whole ‘I've discovered I'm Tobirama-sexual’ thing? I'm thinking that’s not nearly as much of a lie as I thought it would be.”

“Just from a kiss?” Tobirama asks, amused, but he’s hardly about to protest when Kagami leans in again, framing his face with one hand as the other slides into his hair. The reinforced backs of Kagami's fingerless gloves scrape his faceguard, and Tobirama tips his head just enough to make the angle easier.

“It was a pretty good kiss,” Kagami reminds him, and as if to prove the point, he steps closer, brings their lips together. Not a show this time, not a way to make Madara angry—warm, teasing, exploratory, with an edge of newness and a flicker in Tobirama’s chest that is disbelief and hope and avarice in equal measure.

“I think we can do better,” he murmurs, breaking the kiss just enough to speak, and is gratified by the way Kagami immediately pulls him back.

“If we get any better,” Kagami whispers back, and they both hear the bellow of rage from the end of the street but are more than happy to ignore it, “Madara's head is going to explode.”

“All the more reason to practice,” Tobirama tells him, and Kagami kisses the smirk right off his lips.

Tobirama is going to marry the man he loves, and even if Kagami doesn’t love him back, that’s fine. They have time.

Though they’ll definitely have less of it if Madara really does manage to decapitate him, the way he looks like he’s about to. Tobirama ducks, pulling Kagami down with him, and a kunai slams into the wall where his right eye just was.

“Stop _molesting_ my clansman!” Madara snarls, more than a little wild-eyed as he advances on them. Hashirama rounds the corner after him at a dead run, looking frazzled, and the only thing Tobirama can feel is vindicated. Finally someone else is suffering a Madara headache. It’s well past time.

With an entirely inappropriate grin, Kagami snatches Tobirama’s hand again and pulls him away. “ _I'm_ the one who’s doing the molesting, Madara. Leave us alone,” he retorts.

Madara's face purples with fury, and on instinct Tobirama grabs Kagami, draws a three-pronged kunai from his weapons pouch, and lets a flash of yellow chakra whirl them away to the sound of Kagami's laughter.

When they land in a sea of fallen cherry blossoms, holding each other up in the warm spring air, it’s maybe just slightly possible that Tobirama is laughing too.


End file.
